


Making the Headlines

by Crosses_and_Qoutes



Series: SuperBat drabbles [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: AU, M/M, Reporter AU, Wine and Dine, restaurant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7467693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crosses_and_Qoutes/pseuds/Crosses_and_Qoutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clark's big interview gets canceled, he doesn't know what he is going to tell his boss tomorrow morning. But there just might be a dark knight waiting around the corner to sweep him off of his feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the Headlines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzJazz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzJazz/gifts).



> To JazzJazz, you've been working so hard on your story, i figured you could use some encouragement. Keep it up darling and enjoy this little tidbit!

“I’m sorry sir. I don’t understand.”

“I apologize Clark but I simply won’t be able to make it. Business came up, you know, that sort of thing.”

Clark’s jaw clenched, feeling his blood pressure rise as the giggle reached him from the other end of the phone. He didn’t even have to imagine the woman draping herself over Mr. Bigton, bedazzled in diamonds and jewels that could pay for his apartment twice over.

“Sir,” he hissed through his teeth, trying to keep his tone calm, “we have had this interview set up for nearly a month now. Your driver has already dropped me off at the Diamond Standard. I can’t exactly afford a place like this on a reporter’s salary.”

“Oh no my boy, the meals already paid for. Enjoy, on my treat! The best of Metropolis for free! I’m sure we can reschedule or something. Goodbye.”

“Mr. Bigton!”

But it was too late. The man had already hung up the phone. No doubt he’s hands were thoroughly occupied now. Clark took a deep breath, running a hand over his face to try and contain the frustration building in his gut. Mr. White had been schumzing and kissing ass for two months now to get the exclusive into Bigton’s big move onto the agricultural move. And now Clark was going to come in tomorrow morning with stark nothing. No, Mr. White being unhappy was going to be the understatement of the century.

“Clark?”

He glanced up, catching a glance of raven locks and shimmering steel cuff links before finally recognizing the man before him. Bruce Wayne had come into Metropolis to conduct a few business deals with various companies, looking to expand the Enterprise to enormous amounts in order to insure that his family would be covered, should anything happen to the heir of the Wayne throne. Clark had been one of many reporters that had swarmed the bachelor when he had set up a conference, but he had one of the few that had actually gotten an answer out of the man. Honestly, he was surprised that the man remembered his name at all.

“Mr. Wayne! Hello, how are you?” He fumbled, automatically sticking out his hand. There seemed to be a hint of a smile in the other man’s eyes as he shook it firmly. Bruce allowed his eyes to subtly roam over Clark’s broad shoulders and delicately curling hair on his forehead before quickly looking back up.

“You seem to clean up quite nicely. Special date tonight?” He asked.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I had an interview set up for Mr. Bigton of Annual Incorporations but he just canceled on me at the last second. Mr. White is going to tear me up one side and down the other tomorrow morning, but there isn’t much I can do tonight. How about you?”

Bruce leaned back against the wall with him, shoulders brushing slightly.

“Hmm. Well, if this is how Mr. Bigton treats appointments, I might have to revaluate our deal tomorrow. You can learn much about a man about how he treats others. I was going to meet up with one of the council members for the board when he called in all of a sudden. Apparently, he’s granddaughter couldn’t wait to join the world. He’s going to be a grandfather in a few hours.”

“That’s wonderful!”

Bruce smiled, giggling a bit at his reaction. The precious weight of life wasn’t foreign to the country boy.. Living on a farm had done wonders for his perception of the world. He had birthed many a lamb from sheep’s womb and lost a few as well.

“So, what are you going to do now, since Mr. Bigton has regretfully canceled on you?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. This interview has been set up for a month and I don’t know anything else that would satisfy an article enough to satisfy my boss.”

There was a pause as Bruce tilted his head, thinking a bit.

“What about an exclusive with Bruce Wayne and his business in Metropolis?”

“Pardon?”

“I have a proposition for you Mr. Kent, since we both seem to be in a bit of a bind.” He continued, seeing Clark’s eyebrow raise a bit. “You don’t seem to have any backups that would satisfy your superiors and I am lacking a date for a table for two. You get an interview with me and I don’t have to eat alone tonight. That sound fair enough?”

Clark honestly couldn’t believe his ears. Was Mr. Wayne being serious? It seemed as much, as the man had leaned in a bit, a smirk playing across his face.

“Of course!” He blurted, “I mean, yes, if’ it’s alright with you. I’m sure that you didn’t want to spend your evening doing even more work-“

“Please, I was going to be working anyway. An interview is much more engaging than crunching numbers for the next quarter.” He turned, walking towards the entrance. “Besides it would be a shame for that suit to go to waste.”

Clark was pretty sure that was a compliment as he trailed behind, barely glancing at the elegant foyer as Bruce asked for his table. The Diamond Standard certainly lived up to its names. Elegance was stitched into every embroidered silken tablecloth, the diamond chandeliers twinkling on the backdrop of dark blue and dim lighting, creating quite the atmosphere. He thanked his lucky stars that Lois had convinced him to invest and have a tux tailored for himself instead of just renting one.

They sat down across a porcelain table, the velvet cushion a welcome feeling after having stood outside for so long. He thanked the young hostess as she wished them a good evening, handing them a pair of tall menus before clicking back to her place in the front on long heels.

“Dear Lord…” He whispered, his eyes nearly bulging out of his contacts. The prices were ridiculous, to say the very least. “Was the food raised by angels and blessed by God before being sent down here.”

Bruce actually laughed, hiding behind his menu. “Hardly, but they are some of the best chefs in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been blessed by angels. Was Mr. Bigton going to have you pay your own ticket?”

“No, he assured me that he had the tab covered beforehand.”

“Hmm, I say make him pay for the inconvience then. There are worst ways to get revenge.”

He could see Clark struggling a bit, not able to pronounce half of the dishes, much less understand what they were.

“If I may,” He said, leaning a bit over the table, “I find that their steaks are quite delectable, but they are best known for their desserts.” He pointed out the section of the menu for him, pulling back just in time.

“Hello sirs, my name is Reyes and I will be taking care of you this fine evening. Would either of you like to look at our wine selection? Or perhaps something else?”

“Ah, not tonight. Just a water please.” Clark answered.

“Water for me as well, thank you.” Bruce nodded as the boy walked off. By the time he returned Clark had decided to go with a simple steak, well done, with roasted vegetables. A beggar’s meal by this restaurants usual standard, but it would be done to the nine’s, he was sure. Bruce ordered similarly, along with the intent for dessert before the rolls were delivered, the usual samples of four butters laid out on a tray.

“So, do you always offer interviews to poor ditched reporters or am I just special?” Clark teased, spreading a bit of the saltier butter on a steaming bun before biting into a bit, he’s eyes wide with the flavor.

“Your just special.” He smirked, seeing the realization of why a breadbasket would cost thirteen dollars. “I remembered you for the conference that was held a few days ago. You were the only one that showed any interest in my children. If I remember correctly, you made it a point to ask about the girls.”

“Yes I did. It’s just that there is plenty over your boys, especially Richard and Damien, but when I tried to find something about Barbra or Cassandra there simply wasn’t much to go on. Is that out of preference for them or is that out of protection?”

“I have made no efforts like that to protect the girls and they don’t particularly care if the papers talk. In a manner of speaking, if your not in line for the throne, they simply don’t ask. Cassie gets quite irritated when reporters ask about the dress she’s wearing and not her police training, so it’s probably for the better.”

“I see.” He said, sneaking his notebook out and scribbling a few lines down before continuing. Clark found out plenty about Bruce Wayne that he could use in the article, but there were other things, little private things that he might keep to himself. Like the way he described each of his children like a gift, even the most problematic and chaotic ones and how tense it could be at times, with the sheer amount of history that came with each foster child. Little sayings and lessons that he had passed down to them from his mother and father and his beloved butler Alfred, who was practically a father figure to him anyway. Even if the steak was to die for, Clark could admit that he would have gone hungry for a few more hours with the man.

“I have to insist on this one.” Bruce smiled, pointing to a strange egg looking creation in the dessert menu. “Jason, bless him, doesn’t always have the best taste, but that is undeniably the best one here.”

“I’ll trust your judgment!” Clark laughed, putting the notepad away as Bruce ordered. Anything that Bruce told him beyond this point was going to be kept in private memories.

“So we’ve talked quite a bit about me and my family.”

“Considering that this is an interview, that’s kind of expected.”

“But I would like to know more about you as well. Where does Clark Kent come from?”

Clark’s life seemed so different, simple compared to Bruce’s whirlwind of a life, but he told as much as he could remember. He’s life on the farm and raising sheep and a few cows, the seasonal harvest and his parents, who had taken him on from nothing. He nearly had the man on the floor as he recounted an awful mistake he commited in the 4H club, but he persisted thorough  his college years, finally moving to his official move to Metropolis.

The desert arrived sometime in the middle and he watched in rapt fascination as they poured some sort of chocolate sauce over the white sphere, dissolving into a delicious looking cake with the best tasting raspberry sauce that he had ever tasted.

“Oh wow that’s amazing!” he moaned, not seeing Bruce squirm in his seat a bit.

“Glad you like it. Do you have enough for your article? Or should we stay a bit longer?”

“I have more than enough thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough for everything. Really, you saved my hide here Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, just Bruce is fine.” He smiled, handing the cheek back to the waiter. Clark felt something pull on his belly button before settling back. It persisted as they walked out, a kind of silence hanging over them that he couldn’t quite name.

“Are you sure that you don’t need a ride home? I’d be more than happy.” Bruce offered again, grabbing his shoulder. He seemed so much closer now, so much more real.

“Nonsense. After the evening you’ve given me, I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more.”

“You could.” Bruce smiled, slyly twisting his head and kissing Clark’s jaw. “Anytime you  would like to see me the doors are wide open, Mr. Kent.”

Clark blinked, blankly watching as the man climbed into the limo and drove away, leaving behind a blushing farm boy clutching onto a napkin with Bruce’s personal cell phone number for dear life.

* * *

 

He went to the office an hour early, he rationalized, because he would need to explain the changes to the article to Mr. White before submitting it in. Not because eh couldn’t sleep, his heart hammering away in his chest like a train, the kiss burning like a cigarette.

What he meet however was a highly amused Lois leaning against his desk like the cat that had caught the canary.

“Lois what’s going on?” He sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair, far too tired to try and decipher her today.

She said nothing, only lifting a single finger as a magazine as the headline blared out like a siren.

“Big date last night, smalltown?”

Lord have mercy.

He snatched the paper out of her grasp, flipping to the page where the article was featured skimming over the words in a mad daze. They hadn’t recorded any of the conversation, but they speculated quite a bit, didn’t they? Oh yes, the Cosmo had plenty to say on Bruce Wayne and his freaking good night kiss which was a Full. Page. Picture.

Clark felt his blood rise to his cheeks, rapidly spreading to the top of his ears. Lois’s smirk escaladed to evil proportions, finally pointing insistently to the back doors of the office where a certain gentlemen was waiting.

“I will be right back.” He stuttered, speed walking to Bruce and yanking his arm into his.

“Hi, I hope you haven’t been waiting too long, one second.”

He continued back towards the elevators, everybody clearing out as they saw them coming. Slamming the top floor button he waited until they were between floors before finally pressing the stop button, the emergency lighting kicking in.

“I am so sorry about his Bruce.” He gasped, running a hand through his hair.

“For the elevator or the magazines? Because I’m not quite understanding the elevator yet.”

“This is a newspaper business. The only way to get any actual privacy is to break a few rules. Honestly, I’m a reporter, I should have known that-“

“Exactly, you’re a reporter, not the paparazzi,” Bruce said, taking one of his hands. “Does it bother you? That they think we’re together?”

“No! No, I mean, seriously, have you looked in a mirror lately? Not to imply that anybody should be with you simply for your looks, though they certainly help with that.”

“Clark,” Bruce insisted, stepping a bit closer and smashing whatever Clark was about to say, “Calm down. I’m certainly not the only handsome gentlemen in this elevator, trust me on that one.” He whispered, allowing Clark to see his eyes sweep over him before looking back up. “Normally, I don’t care what the paparazzi say. They are going to talk no matter what you do. However, I would kind of like them to be true, this one time. Would you be interested? In a relationship with me?”

Clark felt a hysterical giggle bubble in his throat, finally allowing reality to set in. Bruce had been flirting last night. Was flirting right now. Genuinely wanted him.

Clark nodded, flipping them around and pushing the millionaire into the steel walls, easily finding the strands of infuriatingly perfect hair and yanking them upward. Surprised, but certainly not unwilling, Bruce opened his mouth, hands clutching at his button up as he whimpered.

“Yes. Yes I am very interested.”

“I can tell.” He gasped, pulling the man in for another kiss. Clark was definitely dominating this one, nearly picking Bruce up once he’s knees had failed him. He didn’t even know you could do that with your tongue.

“This is the fire department, we’ve gotten an alert that your evaluator has been stopped is everything alright?”

Clark pulled back, breathing heavily as he pressed the call button.

“Yes,” He gasped, trying to focus as Bruce slowly started to undue his tie. “Yes, we’re fine, just a slight-slight disagreement.” He yelped, Bruce biting down roughly on his neck before soothing it with his tongue and mouth.

“I am not doing this here.” He whispered, pushing the elevator to go again, straight to the top floors.

“No, I would need much more time with you. However, you weren’t leaving this elevator without some compelling evidence.” He laughed, redoing the tie into a complicated Windsor knot that Clark had never even attempted. Clark wanted to stay, God he wanted to stay, but he still had a job to do and an article to submit. Bruce sauntered out of the lobby doors, smirking over his shoulder as Clark finally checked himself over in the mirrors of the lobby.

“Bruce Wayne!” He yelled, seeing the large and impossibly bruised hickey blooming over his collar. “How in the world am I going to explain that!”

At the very least, life was going to get very interesting.

 


End file.
